Tied Up, Dried Up and Dead to the World
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: One-shot about why Dean never tried to have a "normal" life. Not set in a particular timeframe. Major angst inside.


Warning: Angst ahead!!! Not really set in a partcualr time.

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**Tied Up, Dried Up and Dead To the World...**

"You don't get it, Sam…you never did and you never will…" Dean said, his eyes full to bursting with despair.

"What don't I get, Dean? Huh? I asked you to come with me. I asked and you said no. I had to go. I was miserable. I just wanted you to stop being dad's robot and think for yourself." Sam said, his voice like acid.

Dean's eyes, if possible, teemed with even more despair and pain. Dean's composure crumpled even further, his weariness naked for all to see. Dean's liquid, moss green eyes shifted down and away, closing for a long moment before he spoke again, his eyes failing to return forward with his voice, however.

"That's my point, Sam…I was never going to be like you. I may have dreamt of something like that, had moments when I thought maybe I'd be able to give it a try…but…it was never gonna happen because…" Dean said, his quiet, gravely voice trailing off.

Sam was a little caught off guard by his big brother's demeanor. A screaming, fist-swinging Dean he could handle. A broken, quiet and still Dean…he was at a loss. Sam breathed deeply, his tactic for figuring out this Dean was going to have to be cautious, lest his brother decide to pull away again and he lost the chance to get a glimpse of what Dean kept inside for so long.

"Because of what, Dean…" Sam said softly, treading delicately.

Dean sighed deeply, resignation pouring off of him in waves.

"Because, Sam…every hope and every dream I ever had…I put it all in you…Guess I was kinda living vicariously through you…All those half-dreams of a life other than hunting…I gave them all up and put all my hope and faith in you."

Dean finally raised his eyes to his brother's. Sam saw the lonely tear track slipping down his big brother's face and it made him nearly choke on the lump he suddenly found in residence in his throat.

"I took all the things I'd ever wished for…all the dreams from before…" his breathe hitched, "from before the fire…I took everything left in me and put into you the moment dad put you in my arms and told me to take care of you. I didn't want them inside me anymore…it just...hurt…too much. Do you get it now? Do you? The night mom died, the Dean you kept telling me I should be…he died, too. I let him die and I put all that I had to give into seeing that you lived…that you had every happiness I could give you, every dream you ever had accomplished. It was enough for me…but… I guess…not for you, huh…"

Sam's eyes overflowed with tears. He tried to reach out to his brother.

"Dean…" he said in a choked sob.

Dean pulled away, turning away from him. He heard his brother's chest and throat working, attempting to trample down the overwhelming emotions he'd finally let free for a brief moment in time. Sam took a hesitant step closer, reaching out again, his hand landing on Dean's shoulder gently. Dean jerked away.

"Don't…"

Dean sucked in a deep breath then moved toward the door. He went to automatically pluck up the keys and his battered old jacket, both of which had once been his father's. He'd cherished them at one point in time, but now...Now all they did was reminded him of his life and of the life that was never really his and never would be. He dropped them quickly, almost as if they'd burned like acid. He backed away another step then rushed toward the door, flicking it open then escaping through its gaping maw.

At first Sam had been too deep in shock to register his brother was rushing away from him, but then, he heard the door thud thickly back into place and that snapped him out of his stupor immediately. He rushed to the door, grabbing the keys and took off into the night after his brother, calling out for him and hoping to ascertain where he had escaped to.

Dean had never been a runner by want, just by need for the job, but he felt like running now…If only he could run far enough and fast enough to escape all the demons of his own making that swirled inside him right at the moment...

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**A/N:** Ok, what do ya think? It just sort of crept up on me and I had to get it out and done on the compy screen...


End file.
